The Little Lion Man
by AmberXAutopsy
Summary: What is a little wolf, not yet having found her bite, supposed to do when trapped inside a lions den. (Reposted)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: okay, this is my first Game of Thrones fanfiction so I'm sorry if it's not all that good. But I'll get better. :) it originally started out as a one shot, but now I'm leaning more towards an actual story if it's well received. Also, the characters may be a little OOC, but, once again, I'm working on that as well. I have no beta, so any and all mistakes are mine. :)**

**Enjoy!**

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Sansa had always felt a sense of relief whenever she was alone in her room.

By herself to do as she pleased, act as she pleased...whatever her broken little heart desired and not have the ever present worry of her image as a Lady or as a wife to the infamous Lannister name.

She rarely ever spent her days like that anymore.

She wondered if anyone knew her smile was fake as her eyes jumped from person to person, slowly making their way around the great tables that cluttered the otherwise large garden area, watching in quiet disinterest as the King's guests made their way through the aisles of freshly bloomed flowers, laughing and talking in small groups, casting glances over their shoulders at the teenaged former Stark, most likely gossiping about where on earth her newly wedded husband could be.

In truth she often found herself forgetting about her recent marriage, catching herself as she wondered what her future would be like.

What it would hold.

But, she already knew her destiny, sealed the moment she recited her vows before the witnesses seated by the rows behind her.

As soon as the heavy burden of the Lannister cloak was placed upon her thin shoulders.

She nodded a quick hello to the new arrivals that happened to cast their gaze in her direction as they strolled down the pathway before she dropped her eyes, snatching up the napkin that was placed smoothly over her lap into her hands, threading the thin fabric through her fingers, suddenly feeling very out of place.

"My lady, may I have your ear?"

She looked up at the voice, finding herself staring down at an older man standing a few feet from her seat, his armor, dull and dented from years of battle and wars at the hands of kings, glinting in the noon sun that shone down brightly through the coverings that stood upon pegs high above their heads.

"Of course, kind knight." She replied, letting her napkin drop from her grasp onto her scantily touched plate. "What is it you need?"

"I was wondering if you had heard anything of your family, my lady." The old knight asked, hoisting his helmet under his arm, smoothing his whitened beard with a quick thread of his fingers. "I was an old acquaintance of your father. I was...devastated by the news of his death."

Her jaw clenched as her throat cleared, her spine pulling taut against the back of her chair.

"Thank you for your words, but no, I have heard nothing." She answered, suddenly feeling drained and ready for the day to end as the summer heat beat down onto her, making the rush of memories that whipped in her mind even more unbearable. "All the ravens that come to our chambers of late have been for...my husband."

"Speaking of which, where is the lord Tyrion?" The knight asked, his gaze skipping briefly over to the seat to her right. "I was hoping to ask his opinion on certain battle matters the King has devised."

She lowered her eyes, the weight of his attention resting against her chest as she stared down at her hands, twisting around eachother in her lap.

Yes, this was her destiny.

To be Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock.

Wife to the Lord Tyrion Lannister, and barrier of his children.

She shook her head, watching him bow out of the corner of her eye and leave. Her eyes turned, landing on the empty chair beside her, her gaze caressing the figures and fairytale scenes that were carved deep into the thick, heavy wood.

She had lied.

She knew exactly where he was, she just couldn't bring herself to say it for fear he would go looking.

The sudden plunge of her stomach made her neck straighten, looking up in time to see her husband emerge from the arched gate that lead up from the woods, straightening his jacket and shirt as he walked forward, smiling and conversing quickly with guests as he passed.

She didn't love him.

They both knew that.

But...

She stood, holding her head as high as she could manage as she made her way down and disappeared into the crowd.

...that didn't mean it hurt any less.

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"Did you have a nice day?"

She didn't look up at his voice, instead she continued with her hair, staring at her reflection in the rounded vanity mirror.

"The Queen looked nice today." he tried, only to pause again, waiting for her to speak and heaving a soft sigh when she didn't. "Sansa...what is wrong?"

"Nothing, my lord." She finally spoke, feeling him move closer, watching him appear in the mirror over her shoulder as she pulled the last binding from her hair, shaking the tight braid free. "It has just been a tiring day." She paused, picking up the brush that lay before her.

A pause.

"A knight came looking for you today during the festival."

He watched in silence for a moment as she pulled the jeweled brush through her hair, his hands reaching out in a short, smooth movement to pluck it from her fingers, resuming her interrupted task.

"What did he inquire about?" He asked, his voice hushed as he watched his fingers weave through her fiery locks, seeming to shimmer in the flickering light around them.

"He said he needed your opinion on battle matters." She answered, her cold disinterest setting him slightly on edge. "I do not know who he was though."

He scowled at her tone, his stomach dropping.

This wasn't like her.

Despite her obvious reserve and distaste towards him, she had always been attentive and kind as a Lady of a house should.

This was almost like...anger.

"Do not worry. I will make a point of finding who he was in the morning." He said, hoping to put any of her unsaid concerns to rest. He lowered the brush, letting his free hand fall, the tips of his fingers sliding down the silky texture of her neck before landing on her shoulder. "Sansa, I..."

His voice trailed off, an odd sense of shame and sadness falling over him like a cold blanket as he felt her tense under his touch, shrugging his hand away as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"I'm retiring for the night, my lord." She suddenly said, almost jumping up from her chair and making her way into their bedroom, leaving him alone in her wake, watching the curtains that hung from the doorway she had exited through blow softly in the light breeze that snuck in through the opened windows.

'Go after her.' A voice in his head commanded, his fingers twitching as the feeling of her velvet like hair sliding through his fingers remained, almost as if to torture him.

Taunt him.

Reaching over he pulled a cup from small table that stood beside the bath, filling it briskly with wine before gulping it down, his head hanging from his shoulders as the bitter liquid slid it's way down his throat, dropping heavily into his uneasy, empty stomach.

In the back of his mind he knew why she was upset.

Why she was acting so distant.

But, on their marriage night she had made it abundantly clear that she had no desire to even share his company, let alone any intimate feelings.

Yes, it had hurt.

Any wife telling her husband that he all but disgusted her would sting.

Even if the words never fell from her strawberry colored lips he knew that was how she felt of him. He could see it in her eyes whenever they rushed over him.

Every time he drew near or looked her way. Her eyes instantly filling with fear whenever he attempted to sooth the ever present sadness that lingered deep within her gaze.

A slow scowl dawned on his face as he recalled all the nights he had awoken to find her crying. How he would be unable to sleep and would just watch her small shoulders tremble as she sobbed, wishing more then anything that he could some how take his her pain away and make it his own.

If only to see her smile one last time.

To see her as happy as she had once been, bouncing around court and behaving as a girl her age should be.

Not yet knowing the strife and heart break that would inevitably enter into her life.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched the dim light that shone from the bedroom disappear, the faint smell of smoke flowing in around him as the candle was blown out.

He sighed and set down his cup, making his way through the doorway and over to their bed, pausing for a moment to stare over at the young girl, her back turned towards him.

'If only you would let me care about you, Sansa...' he thought, watching her deep, even breaths causing the thick covers that lay over her to rise and fall. 'You are not as alone as you feel...'


	2. Chapter 2

She could hear him shifting around from where she lay on the bed, head covered, listening through muffled ears as liquid sloshed into a cup, followed by several deep gulps before the process began again.

'Must he be drunk every night...?' She couldn't help but wonder, shifting her hand to lift the covers slightly, her eyes landing on his small shadow, his posture wavering slightly were he stood.

He...wasn't so bad when he was sober, she mused. He was quiet and thoughtful, at least around her, and the few conversations that they had actually rode out turned out to be quite nice.

There was actually many things she found pleasing about him.

He was always reading, unlike the others at court, and that was something she had come to admire, feeling a certain tingling in her stomach whenever he came strolling into their room, a thick book hitched tight under his arm. A tingling she always seemed to brush off as hunger or part of her monthly bleed.

The way he always seemed pleased to see her whenever she entered the bed chambers at night or happened to stroll into a room he was occupying. Always having a smile for her whenever their eyes met. A small smile of course, easily missed by others...but not lacking in warmth amid all the frost-like faces of his family members that always seemed to surround him.

He always seemed so out if place when he was around them.

Like an warm island among a world covered in snow.

And last, but most likely the most of all...he allowed her space.

Not cramming in around her like most husbands tended to do. His eyes not following her where ever she moved in a sort of lust fueled gaze, a gaze she had seen much from the King, causing her to feel awkward and nervous.

To be honest...he was more like a live in acquaintance rather than a husband.

And that is how she preferred it seeing as neither of them shared any romantic feeling towards eachother.

Or any feelings to that matter.

They were simply...there.

She watched him stumble forward, her eyes turning away momentarily as he started shedding his clothes as he moved, opening them back up in time to see his shadow disappear out of view, a trail of burgundy material leading from the bath to the chaise that sat against the end of the bed, his drunkened snores reaching her ears moments later.

Sighing she let the covers fall back into place and forced her eyes closed, shifting her legs slightly when the feeling of pins and needles started, brought on by almost an hour of not moving.

She let her mind wander, traveling through the years as she started to float out into an abyss, far away from where she was then.

Back to happier days...

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She was awoken by the gentle clatter of dishes, turning her head slightly to peek out from under the covers, her eyes, still blurred from sleep, landing on the brown haired beauty that was hurrying around the room, her hands busy setting the table and collecting stray clothes, thrown off amid Tyrion's drunken stooper before felling, face first, down onto his 'bed', already asleep when he landed.

The sound of his snoring sounded from where he still slept, echoing through the otherwise quiet room as she closed her eyes again, burying her face into the cushion beneath her.

"Do you wish me to wake him, my lady?" Her handmaid voice asked, her whispered tone causing Sansa to once again turn her eyes and uncover her head, following Shae's dark gaze as it darted from hers down towards the sleeping dwarf at her right.

"Let him sleep." Sansa heard herself groan as she forced herself to sit, yawning as stared down at the small man. "He was fonder than usual of the wine last night."

Nodding, she left, slipping out the door almost unheard and leaving the lady alone with her lord to step out if bed, the floor, thick with early morning chill, sending a jolt up her bare feet as she stood, staring own at him in thinly veiled disgust, the smell of stale alcohol catching her nose as she came to stand at his side.

"My lord," she whispered, nudging his shoulder gently with a finger, unwilling to touch him any further in his current position. "It is noon...you must rise. The council is expecting you within the hour..."

He groaned, turning over onto his back and rubbing a hand over his cheek, the lightly colored stubble that sprouted out over the lower part of his face scratching against his palm, his fogged eyes starting to open only to snap back shut, his confused expression turning into that of pain.

"Damned light is always so damn bright in the morning." He mumbled, slowly pushing himself up as he motioned for the woman before him to pull the curtains, his eyes remaining shut as her shadow passed over his lids, crossing the floor untol the light that screamed at him suddenly disappeared, replaced with a quiet darkness that soothed his pounding head.

Cracking his eyes he stared, watching as she turned, her auburn hair seeming to catch the few thins rays of sun that still managed to leak through, lighting up her paled skin so it looked as if it were glowing.

His hands itched to reach out and pull her against him, settle her head against his thighs and stroke her bed tangled hair, his whispered words finally causing a smile to break across her frozen mouth, shattering the ice.

His eyes dropped down to the ground when their attentions met, lowering his head and pretending to fiddle with a loosened thread on the blanket that laid across his legs.

He cleared his throat before speaking, watching her make her way around him from the corner of his eye, her form disappearing behind the dressing division.

"How was your night, Sansa?" He called as he hopped down onto the bitter floor, grateful as its icy temperature quickened his sobering process.

"It was as always, I suppose." Was her reply as she hurled her sleeping gown over the dividers paper thin surface. "How did you sleep, my lord?"

He felt himself scowl, wishing more than anything she would call him by his name instead of 'my lord'. It always made him feel so...dirty. As if their relationship, or lack thereof, were just a sort of lecherous affair with another meaningless whore.

But...she was his wife.

He could love her. He already knew this.

But she couldn't love him. It was written plainly in her movements. Her every look in his direction.

"As well as any other, I suppose." He heard himself say, his voice low, as he made his way across the room to snatch up the goblet that laid on the floor. "Have you any plans for the day, Sansa?"

"Not any of impotence, my lord." She replied, causing Tyrions head to lower, staring through forlorn eyes at the floor beneath his feet, his attention only to raise seconds later to watch his wife step from behind the division, her small hands smoothing wrinkles from her dress with short, quick strokes.

She must have felt the wait of his gaze for her eyes rose to meet his, her eyebrows pulling together she took in his confused, slightly disappointed expression.

"Did I thread the laces wrong?" She asked, ducking her head to glance down at her bodice.

"No, it's just..." he trailed off, filling his goblet with wine before gesturing to the dress hung from a hook at the wall. "...why don't you wear the grey dress you love so much."

She turned her head curiously, as if forgetting having hung the dress there the night before, pausing for a moment to admire it, to run her slender fingers over the small wolf pendant that graced it's neckline before she turned and climbed into bed.

"I can not..." her voice was a mere whisper, her voice saddened as her eyes were cast down towards the floor. "It would be insulting to your family if I wore Stark colors...

"My family can go jump off a cliff if their going to reprimand my wife on a simple dress." His sharp tone surprised him as he spoke. "Besides...if standing for minutes on end staring at it, as you did last night, is any indication of its value to you...than it must be very important."

Her head whirled around, her eyes wide as they came down to meet his, the utter bewilderment causing a smile to sneak its way across his lips.

"I hadn't know you were still..."

"Aware?" He offered as he raised his now half filled into the air. "If you wish to do things in 'secret' I suggest you wait until later at night."

He was finding her embarrassment far more enduring than he should have as she dropped her gaze, a light blush coming to show against her otherwise paled skin.

Finally, deciding to put her out of her misery he stepped forward, pulling some if the dresses silky fabric into his hand, half expecting himself to burst into flames as his skin touched the cool material. His eyes turning up to Sansa as he spoke.

"I think you should wear it. You'd look absolutely breath taking in it." His tone was soft and reassuring. "And if anyone has a problem, I will kindly point out that I am your husband, and if I see no problem in your choice of colors than neither should they."

He surprised her with a wink before he turned, making his way into the bathroom to ready for the day and leaving her to stare after him.


End file.
